


Crossover Fic: On the Edge of All Things (Firefly/Doctor Who) (Ten/Inara)

by Goldy



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Firefly
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Crack, Crossover, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-19
Updated: 2007-06-19
Packaged: 2017-12-21 02:04:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/894515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldy/pseuds/Goldy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten and Inara bump into each other at an upper-society Core function.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crossover Fic: On the Edge of All Things (Firefly/Doctor Who) (Ten/Inara)

**Title** : On the Edge of All Things (1/1) - written for the [](http://sonic-tea.livejournal.com/profile)[**sonic_tea**](http://sonic-tea.livejournal.com/) ficathon.  
 **Disclaimer** : I do not own Firefly or Doctor Who.  
 **Characters/Pairing** : Inara, Ten, mentions of Mal/Inara, Doctor/Rose.  
 **Summary** : Another ‘Ten and Inara meet at a party just as something goes horribly wrong’ fic. I was a little worried when I read [](http://noblealice.livejournal.com/profile)[**noblealice**](http://noblealice.livejournal.com/) ’s, but I think we ended up doing something quite different. :D  
 **Spoilers** : General S3 spoilers for Doctor Who, set post-FoB. Post-BDM for Firefly.  
 **Prompt** : _Ten and Inara bump into each other at some upper-society Core function. There is chemistry. There is dancing. Perhaps Inara even helps him save the world._  
 **Rating** : T for ticking-time-bomb!Ten.  
 **Word Count** : 5, 500  
 **A/N** : Big thanks to [](http://ninamazing.livejournal.com/profile)[**ninamazing**](http://ninamazing.livejournal.com/) for the beta and help with character analysis. And also, for pretty much everything else, too. You know what I mean. :D

  
I vaguely set this sometime after the events of [_Lending a Hand_](http://community.livejournal.com/teawiles/9498.html) (written with [](http://hjea.livejournal.com/profile)[**hjea**](http://hjea.livejournal.com/)) because I wanted Inara to remember Ten back when he wasn’t so emo and angsty. (You do remember S2, don’t you? You know, back when he was happy and bouncy and licked random things?) There are practically no references to it and I wouldn’t call it a _sequel_ , but it’s important to know they have met before.

****

Inara shifts her handbag to her other elbow, trying to keep a bored expression on her face. Two years ago, had someone told her that not only would she be retiring her Companion license, but that she’d use her contacts to do petty _theft_ —she probably would have had them thrown in jail for harassment. It’s a surreal feeling. Here she is, Inara Serra, at a high-society function not as a Companion, but as an informant for Malcolm Reynolds and the rest of the crew.

Still, she’d be lying if she said it doesn’t excite her. Her senses feel heightened, on edge. She can _feel_ each beat of music like the pounding of her own heart. This isn’t the first job she’s been a part of, but Inara doubts she’ll ever be able to face danger with Mal’s casual smirk.

She raises her wrist and makes a show of studying her bracelet. Her lips barely move as she speaks into it, “Yang’s men are still stationed in the ballroom, but it might be best if you… hurried.”

Mal’s voice crackles to life. “Worried about me?”

She fights back a smile. “I’m worried about _myself_.”

He chuckles and then says, “I’ll see you at the meeting point.”

His radio buzzes out and Inara drops her wrist, sighing. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees two of the guards conversing, their heads turned in her direction. Swallowing, she turns away, just as another pushes off the wall and moves towards her.

_Not good, not good…._

Someone grabs her hand. She clamps down on a shriek, but then a familiar voice says, “Miss Serra, care to dance?”

She whirls around, mouth dropping open. “Doctor?”

“Hello!” he says cheerfully.

Inara gapes, but he pulls her into the crowd before she can respond.

“Uh—what are you—”

The Doctor grabs her wrist and gives her a pointed stare.

“You’re like a beacon with this thing,” he says. “Technology like this… it gives out an energy. Radiation. They can sense it. Luckily for you, I was in the area.”

Somehow, Inara manages to gather her dignity. “In the area?” she says. Her eyes dart nervously around the ballroom. “What’s going on?”

“Not really the time.” He gestures over her shoulder. “Big guards? Big guards heading your way? Hang on—” He spins her rather abruptly and Inara jumps to keep up. “I’ll have to scramble the signal with the sonic. Hold _still_ , will you?”

“We’re on a _dance_ floor,” Inara hisses.

The Doctor finally manages to wrestle the sonic screwdriver out of his suit pocket. He holds it up to her bracelet. “There, that should do it. If they scan you, they should only detect a bracelet, nothing more.”

Inara stares at him. “But… Doctor, the crew—how will I get in contact with them?”

A slightly sheepish expression crosses his face. “Sign language? Um… telegraph? Wave your arms up and down?”

She rolls her eyes, but a hand clamps down on her shoulder. “Need you to turn around, Miss. Nice and slowly.”

The Doctor raises his eyebrows in what she suspects is his way of saying I-told-you-so. Inara sends him a warning look and then follows the guard’s orders.

The guard picks up her wrist, scans it, and then grunts.

“Is there a problem, sir?” asks the Doctor politely. “We were only having an innocent dance.”

He sends her a distinctly flirtatious smile and Inara looks away, biting down on her bottom lip to keep from laughing.

The guard shakes his head and moves off.

The Doctor nods. “Hmm? See? Just like I said. Now, where were we?”

“Dancing?” Inara suggests.

He looks pleased, and Inara feels warmth in her cheeks when he takes her hand and leads her back onto the dance floor.

“What—what are you doing here?” she manages. “I didn’t think we’d ever see you again.”

“I was just passing through,” the Doctor says. “But the TARDIS picked up on energy levels _way_ off the charts. Couldn’t very well ignore that, could I? Well, _that_ —and she did adamantly refuse to take off again. Still, been itching for a little trouble.”

She blinks at him. “What do you mean?”

“It’s alien,” the Doctor says. He leans closer, breath whispering along her neck. “You haven’t seen anything… odd, have you?”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve been distracted,” Inara says.

“That so?” the Doctor says, pulling back to peer at her. “And what about you? What are you doing here?”

“I’m a Companion, Doctor,” she says. “This is the sort of function we generally work at.”

“Do you usually wear a communication device on your bracelet when you’re working?” the Doctor says lightly. “Or just when you’re doing crime?”

Her head snaps up. “What?”

“Right,” he says. “Crime it is, then.”

The last is said with the air of someone trying not to pass judgment and then doing so anyway.

“Yes,” Inara says stiffly. “Not that it’s your business what I get up to.”

“Last time I saw you lot, you were jailed by the authorities,” he mutters. “Not that it would have stopped you. And you, Inara Serra, you of all people should know what there is to lose in a life like this.”

“We’re not bad people,” she hisses. “Out on the Rim, you take what you can. Besides… it—it doesn’t mean we’re not honest, Doctor. More honest than the Alliance, anyway. You’ve seen what they’ve done.”

She wonders when she started sounding so much like Mal.

“Right,” he says after a pause. Inara’s surprised he doesn’t argue further.

“Well,” she says. “I should—I have to meet Mal. He’ll be worried.”

“No,” says the Doctor, eyes scanning a point over her shoulder.

“I’m sorry?”

“No one’s leaving,” he says. “Not if they have anything to say about it.” He gestures to the guards lining the exits. “They’re here to keep people in, not out.”

***

Inara blinks at him, mouth opening slightly. She’s not frightened; only suspicious. _Rightfully so, too_ , he thinks. _Putting it like that._

He hastens to explain. “They’re called the Jagravinski—close relative to the Judoon— _well_ , almost—give or take a few generations. Near enough. They’re a scavenging race, willing to work for the highest bidder.”

Inara’s look only becomes more severe. He swallows.

“They’re aliens,” he explains.

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Aliens?”

“But what are they doing _here_?” he says. “It’s a… _ball_. Out for froofrah and glitter? Nibbles? Well, the nibbles _are_ quite good.” Inara stares at him like he’s completely mad, so he gestures at her. “Just… keep dancing. And try not to get hysterical.”

Her eyes narrow and it occurs to him that he probably should have left that last bit out. Not much for tact in this incarnation. If Rose had been—well, doesn’t matter now.

“Don’t worry about me,” she says. She drops her voice. “Mal’s inside. Mal and the crew. Will they be able to get out?”

“Likely better out there than in this ballroom.” She gives him a piercing look. “I don’t know,” he admits.

“Then I need to go—I have to warn them—”

“Inara,” he leans in closer to her and lowers his voice. “There’s nothing you can do, not right now. I promise you, you try and leave this room, and they will kill you.”

He meets her eyes and she nods once in understanding. Pulling herself together, she says, “They… they don’t look alien.”

“Neither do I,” he says. “Besides, what do you want? Horns? Green slime? Honestly, there’s no room left for subtlety in this universe.”

“Well… yes,” Inara says, and then adds, quite reasonably, “if all aliens were exactly like humans then they wouldn’t _be_ aliens.”

He can’t help but feel absurdly pleased. He likes when humans think for themselves. Doesn’t happen enough. It’s even rarer when they manage to outthink _him_.

“I’ll tell you what,” he says, “you ever meet a robotic looking thing with a plunger sticking out, don’t hang around to chat.”

She chuckles.

He really hadn’t been joking.

***

There’s something indefinable about him. She wonders if she’s supposed to feel frightened. He is, after all, going on about an alien invasion like it’s a usual occurrence.

He’s attractive, undeniably so, even if he’s not traditionally handsome. Judging by his confidence, she suspects he’s aware of it.

But he’s different from the man who once accidentally landed his spaceship on Serenity. She can’t find the same warmth in his eyes. She can sense the subtle shift in personality; a darkness in him that wasn’t there before. She wonders how long it’s been for him. If he really _can_ travel in time… well, it could have been years since he last saw her. Maybe even decades.

She clears her throat. “Do you have a plan?"

“Still working that out,” the Doctor says. “If I just… if I knew what they were after…”

“Great,” Inara says. “ _Woe duh ma_ , he said it’d all go _smooth_. Not that I believed him, of course, it being Mal. But this… I just wish I could warn him.”

He loosens his tie and then focuses on her. “Don’t do something stupid.”

“Like what?” Inara says.

“Like go after him on your own,” he says. “And I _can’t_ follow if you do—these people…”

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Doctor,” she says.

“Oh, so you have plenty of experience with the Jagravinski, then, do you? Know exactly what their weaknesses are, the lengths they’ll go to stop you?”

Inara looks away. She takes a steadying breath. “I have to warn them.”

The Doctor gives her a long look. She can’t read what he’s thinking, but he pulls his screwdriver out of his jacket pocket again. “Give me your bracelet.”

“I—what?”

“Just _do_ it,” he says. “Keep dancing.”

She unhooks it from her wrist, and the Doctor turns her so that she’s between him and the rest of the Jagravinski. He slides a pair of glasses onto his nose and then bends his head to fiddle with it.

“There,” he whispers. “Try it now. You’re only going to get the one shot.”

She grabs the bracelet back. “Mal!” she says into it. “Mal—listen to me, you and the crew—you _have_ to get out of here. Forget the job. There’s…”

The Doctor shakes his head quite adamantly, mouthing, “No, no, no, no…”

Inara swallows. He probably has a point. She suspects Mal would react badly if she told him they were currently being invaded by an alien race called the Jagravinski.

“I—uh…. they know you’re there,” she lies. “My cover’s holding, but you _must_ get out of there. Now.”

She holds her breath, hearing only quiet static on the other end. And then Mal’s voice responds. “Appears like we got almost all the loot—you sure they don’t know you’re there, ‘Nara?”

She could faint with relief. She nods vehemently and then realizes that he can’t see her.

“Yes,” she manages. “No—I’m fine. I’ll meet you back on the ship. I’ll… uh, I’ll take my shuttle. Just… be careful, Mal.”

She hears him hollering at Jayne and Zoe in the background.

“On our way,” Mal says, sounding out of breath. “Appreciate the warning.”

“No problem,” Inara whispers. “I’ll see you later.”

The Doctor seizes her bracelet and shuts down the power. “That’s it. You can’t have this thing on again. If they find out I’m here, I…” he trails off, eyes softening when he sees the look on his face. “He’ll be fine.”

“Fine?” Inara says, arching a brow. “I’m not certain Mal knows the meaning of the word.”

“This isn’t the first heist he’s pulled off—nor, I’m sure, the last,” says the Doctor. “He’ll find a way out.”

He says it with so much assurance that Inara can’t help but believe him.

“Mal does have a history coming out on top despite overwhelming odds,” she says. “Of course, most of that is through sheer dumb luck.”

The Doctor grins. “Oh, I’ve got a better record. Just give me a chance.”

She rolls her eyes. “Great. I’ve traded in one smug idiot for another.”

“Oi,” says the Doctor. “Fortunately for you, I am very good. They’ve started.” He stops dancing, hands slipping into his pockets as he stares at the group of guards huddled around the doors. “An entire ballroom of people and they have us trapped inside.”

***

It takes a few moments for the crowd to realize what’s happening.

And even then—they barely react. Humans—they always prepare for the worst, and then never know what to do when it arrives.

The doors slam shut and the guards take their place in front of them, cocking their guns and pointing them at the crowd. The music shuts off with a sharp screech. The guests pause in mid-dance, more baffled than frightened.

Silence reigns—a sort of momentary hush before the storm.

Then someone screams. That’s when the pushing and the shoving start. The Jagravinski stand back and grin, guns plainly indicating they’ll shoot anyone who tries to leave.

He almost turns around to give Martha instructions before remembering he’d left her back on earth, visiting with her mum. Brilliant. _Just_ when he’d started to get used to having a companion around again.

The Doctor grabs Inara’s hand and pulls her out of the mob.

Inara gasps and hovers close to his side. “They’re not after diamonds and money, are they?”

“I suspect not,” the Doctor says. “But I’m going to find out.”

The Doctor pushes past the crowd and heads for the sound stage. The cellist gapes at him, and the Doctor jerks his head. “Go on.”

He flees down into the crowd. The Doctor swings around and almost crashes into Inara.

“You’re still here,” he manages.

“Evidently,” Inara says “It’s not that I don’t think you’re… capable—it’s just, I’ve been in my fair share of tight situations, Doctor.” She pauses and then adds, “Being a criminal and all.”

He can’t help but grin at her. “Good to have you onboard, Miss Serra.” He grabs the mike and then clears his throat. “Um, hello!”

His voice booms out across the room. The reaction is immediate. The Jagravinski whip around to stare at him and the guests let out muffled gasps.

“I can’t help but notice,” the Doctor continues. “You seem to be kidnapping these people. Why is that?”

“Yes,” Inara says. “ _That’s_ going to work.”

The Doctor casts her a dark look. “You’d be surprised.”

One of the Jagravinski moves forward. The crowd parts out of the way to let him by, their eyes wide with frightened interest.

The Jagravinski stops in front of the sound stage. A single, green tongue flicks out of his mouth on a silent hiss.

“Who are you?”

“I’m the Doctor.”

There’s a responding murmur from the crowd. The Jagravinski exchange a look—a _worried_ look. Good. They’ve heard of him. Always makes things easier when they’ve heard of him.

Inara moves in next to him, leaning in to speak into the mike. “Kidnapping is a federal offense,” she says calmly. “You’re looking at ten years in prison—at least.”

“So what’s worth the risk?” says the Doctor. “A room full of this planet’s richest and most privileged. What are you after? Money? Jewels? They’re not _that_ well off. No, it must be something else—but _what_?”

He runs a hand through his hair and stares into the crowd with the hopes that something will jog his mind.

The Jagravinski’s tongue slithers out at him again. “You’re not human.”

“Time Lord,” says the Doctor.

“ _Wode tìan_ ,” Inara mutters, not sounding impressed at all. “Is this really the time?”

“What?” he says. “I _am_! I’m a Time Lord. The last of—”

“Irrelevant!” spits the Jagravinski. “We have no business with the Time Lords, Doctor.”

“That’s too bad,” the Doctor says. “Because I just… can’t help myself. Always get involved, that’s my problem. So! Who hired you? How much are you being paid?”

“They’re organizing them into groups,” Inara whispers, nudging his arm. “Look—by age, height… sex.”

The Doctor’s gaze jumps around the room. “Organs,” he says.

“Organs?”

“Live, human organ trafficking,” he says. “That’s why they’re after the rich. The healthiest members of society.” He grabs the mike. “Innit? That’s the plan, isn’t it? You want to farm these people. All for _profit_. Because someone hired you, and you won’t ask questions.”

The Jagravinski finally look at him like he’s more than a vague annoyance. Finally. The Doctor hops off the stage and says quietly, “Let them go.”

The Jagravinski look at each other and then burst into laughter.

“Let them go,” he repeats. “And you can have me.”

They stop laughing. Inara’s skirts ruffle as she jumps down next to him, staring at him like his brains are dribbling out his ears.

“Come on,” the Doctor says. “The hearts of a Time Lord. It’s worth twice as much as all these people combined and you know it.” A smile touches his lips. “Let them go and you can have me.”

Inara mutters something sharp and then says, “ _This_ is your plan? This isn’t a plan—it’s suicide!”

“Maybe,” agrees the Doctor. “But they’ll go for it. Oh, they’ll go for it.”

***

They _do_ go for it. They open the doors and push the people out and the Doctor stands there—just _stands_ there, that self-satisfied smile on his face. He watches the guests leave and doesn’t budge an inch.

She can’t believe he can bargain his life with a race of alien mercenaries like it means nothing. Inara’s seen plenty of stupid plans since joining the crew of Serenity, but this one _really_ takes the cake.

The Doctor’s voice startles her. “Are you staying?”

Inara swallows. “Yes.”

He doesn’t take his eyes off the Jagravinski, but she can tell he’s pleased. “Good.”

“Why are you doing this?” Inara hisses.

“Saving you lot, aren’t I?” answers the Doctor. “That’s who I am.”

“Doctor—” she moves closer to him, peering worriedly into his face. He doesn’t look at her. “Doctor, they’ll kill you.”

He finally shifts his eyes away from the Jagravinski to meet hers. “They’ll certainly try,” he says. “But I don’t much feel like dying today. You?”

There’s no hope in his eyes; only cold determination. Inara feels a chill and rubs at her arms. “It wasn’t part of the plan, no.”

“Suspected as much,” says the Doctor. “Don’t worry. I’ll find a way out of this. And then I’ll kill them. All of them.”

Inara doesn’t know how to respond. She tells herself that they’ve killed on Serenity. She’s watched Mal shoot down more men than she can count. It’s survival. This isn’t much different.

“Is that necessary?” Inara says. “I’m sure the proper authorities will—”

“What authorities?” the Doctor says. “Your _Alliance_? Do you really think they’d be equipped to handle a group of aliens working as mercenaries?”

“Well, I—”

“No,” he says. “There’s only me.” But he blinks at her and even manages a faint smile. “It bothers you, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” Inara says firmly.

“Maybe it should,” he says quietly. He lifts his head and looks around him. The Jagravinski usher the last few people out the door.

He digs in his pocket and emerges with the sonic screwdriver. He turns around and points it at the sound stage. “Ready to run?” he says.

Inara opens her mouth to say “What?” but he turns on the screwdriver and a loud wailing shriek cuts through the room. She instinctively moves to cover her ears, but the Doctor grabs her hand and pulls her forward.

She hears the Jagravinski moan in pain behind her, but she doesn’t turn around to look at them.

A bullet whizzes over the Doctor’s shoulder and he ducks, pulling Inara down with him. She bites her lip to muffle a shriek, but the Doctor rises and pushes her forward.

“Come on, keep moving—” he says. “Almost there.”

They make it to the doors. The Doctor flings them open and pushes her through first. He spins around to lock it with the sonic screwdriver a moment before a hail of bullets lodge themselves in the wood. The wail from the soundstage quiets to a dull whine.

The Doctor takes a step back, eyeing it suspiciously. “There,” he says, sucking in a deep breath. “That should slow them down. You okay?”

“Fine,” she says automatically. Her ankles _ache_ and her heart is pounding loud enough to burst out of her chest, but she’s not injured… she’s not even scared.

She shakes her head to clear it. The Doctor peers at her with concern.

“Fine,” she repeats. “You know, tricking them like that… it wasn’t very honest.”

“ _Well_ ,” says the Doctor. Then he shrugs and says, “Was a bit. Still! Alive now. That’s all that counts. Besides—” He gives the door a pat and whirls his screwdriver around before dropping it back into his pocket. “There’s something else.”

Inara gets a bad feeling. “What?”

“This place is set to self-destruct in—oh, about 60 seconds,” he says. “Set it the moment I landed. Thought I might need a backup plan. Should take care of the Jagravinski. Two minutes' time and they’ll be dust and ash. Only a memory. Bound to help you lot out, won’t it? You’ll be able to twist this story to make it fit your narrow conception of the universe. They weren’t aliens, they were gangs, terrorists. Humans—memories like a shifting tide. Able to rationalize—”

“Uh, Doctor,” Inara says. “60 seconds?”

He opens his mouth, closes it, and then grabs her hand again. “TARDIS is up one floor and down the hall. Think you can make it?”

***

He takes the time to let one hand linger on the TARDIS’s door before ushering Inara inside.

“Doctor,” she hisses. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but if there’s a bomb set to go off—I mean, your ship is made out of wood.”

He waves her away. “This ship’s survived much worse, believe me. Now, let’s fire her up.” He kicks one foot at the console. “Ah.”

He turns around, but Inara’s still standing in the doorway, accusation on her face.

“What is it?” he says.

“You blew them up,” she says. “You didn’t even give them a chance.”

“They were harvesting _organs_. Don’t care how rich and thick you are, no one deserves that,” he says. “Blimey, it’s not like I blew up a litter of puppies.”

Inara pushes off the door and takes a few steps forward. “The crew—Mal—we’ve stolen things before not knowing what we were getting into, and then… they—we took it back, Doctor. You have to give people a second chance. You can’t just… slap down a judgment and wash your hands of it.”

“I know,” he says.

And he’s _tried_. He turned _human_ to stop that part of himself. And he only cocked everything up worse in the end. No, it’s better this way. Better to do just go in and get it _done_.

Inara’s voice startles him. “Is Rose here?”

He spins around so quickly that he trips over one of Martha’s medical textbooks. “Ow!” he yelps. He hobbles over to the pilot’s chair and sits down, bending over to massage his toes. “Like bashing your foot into a steel plank.”

Inara’s eyes linger on the textbook. “Does that belong to you?”

“No,” he says. “Martha’s. My companion—new companion. Martha. She’s a med student. Home now. Visiting her mum. Thought it best not to tag along.”

“Oh?” Inara says.

“Not that… I’m not replacing…” he trails off. He forces himself to his feet and smacks one fist down on the console. The TARDIS emits a responding groan. “That’s what I’ve always done. Humans come and they go and I…”

Another kick gets the TARDIS going. He shoves his hands in his pockets and then turns around to lean back against the console, scowling at the air.

Inara stares at him, looking more understanding than accusatory. He nods at her to show that he appreciates it.

She slowly closes the distance between them, trailing one hand along the back of the pilot’s chair before letting her palm linger on the console. Then she quietly moves to stand next to him, mimicking his pose by leaning one hip against the console.

He turns his eyes away and talks to his feet.

“Things have been harder since Rose left.”

He doesn’t add that it all used to be so much fun. It used to be stops for chips, of Rose’s fingers laced through his, of laughing so hard it hurt to breathe.

“What happened?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does,” Inara says. “Doctor… I knew her, too.”

It’s a good point. He digs around inside of his pockets—screwdriver, psychic paper, tea, pencil—and finally pulls out a handful of dominoes. He holds them out for her to see.

She blinks at him. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“Imagine—they’re worlds,” the Doctor says. “Each one of them a universe—all of them resemble ours, but they’re just a little bit different.”

He bends down and sets them up in a row along the grating.

“And they sit parallel to each other—completely self-containing, never touching, never acknowledging each other’s existence.”

He looks up to make sure she’s following.

“There’s been… I mean, scientists have theorized about the existence of parallel worlds,” she says. “But I never thought…”

“Might as well be unattainable,” he says. “Travel between worlds is impossible. As soon as those walls break down…” He knocks over the first domino and the rest fall down in procession. “That’s the end. The end of everything.”

Inara draws in a sharp breath.

“That’s where Rose is,” he says. “In one of those worlds. There was a battle and she got pulled in. I couldn’t stop it. In the end, it wasn’t our choice.” He pauses and rubs the bridge of his nose before adding, “But she’s alive. She’s alive and she’s with her family and she’ll be brilliant—absolutely brilliant. That’s who she is.”

Inara smiles, but then says, “It can’t be impossible. Not if she got there in the first place.”

“There was a crack—a void,” he says. “It should never have existed. And now I’ll never…”

He hurriedly bends down to scoop up the dominoes. Inara moves forward to help him. “Doctor—”

He jumps up. “So! What do you say? One stop ticket back to Serenity? Just seconds away, if you’d like.”

“I… suppose,” Inara says. “But—should we—do you want to talk about this more?”

“Talk about what?”

He hastily moves to the other side of the console—and trips over Martha’s book again. _Bloody hell_. That thing is a driving hazard.

Inara snorts and he whips around to glare at her, but ends up choking back on a laugh.

“You know,” he says once they’ve recovered. “You could come with me.”

***

She has to be dreaming. She blinks at him, certain she misunderstood.

“Pardon?”

He only smiles and leans back on the console, clearly unbothered by her reaction. “Travel with me. You’d love it, Inara. Imagine—every day, a new place, a new time. Anything you wanted at your fingertips. That’s who I am. I can go anywhere, do anything, start and stop revolutions if I wanted. And I could show it all to you.”

Inara straightens, mouth going dry. “I couldn’t.”

“Yes, you could,” he says. “You want to. And I need… I need someone. I need someone who won’t be afraid to tell me when to stop.”

“I…”

She looks around the console room—so beautiful, yet so foreign to her. It’s nothing like the soft colours on Serenity, the slightly messy but lived in look to the galley. There’s no trace of the silk and finery of her shuttle.

It doesn’t feel like home.

He swings around the console again and faces her. “It’s boring, isn’t it? Same thing, day in and day out. Same man, same crew. You’re a Companion, Inara Serra. One of this world’s most accomplished women—and you’re stuck onboard a tiny vessel that flies on stolen money.”

“You’re one to talk,” she manages. “Showing up like you did—leaving those things to die and then just… taking off again. You never stop, do you?”

He looks at her like he wants to ask for her help, though he isn’t sure what kind. She feels sick. She doesn’t know what to tell him. She doesn’t even know how to _begin_ to help him.

He tries again. “You could have been anything, Inara. And _now_ … tied to one man, one place. You’re not bored? Not restless?”

She looks away, eyes drifting to the grating. She knows what he’s offering. A chance to run away and live a life of freedom—to _do_ anything she wants. It is enticing. How could it not be?

“The people on Serenity are my family,” she says.

She doesn’t add that what he’s offering is like something out of a fantasy. It’s not real. But Serenity—Serenity is watching River learn to control her strength, it’s watching Simon and Kaylee beam like every day is the best they’ve ever had. It’s Zoe slowly putting the pieces of her life back together again. And Mal. Being with Mal—it’s like being cut in two and coming home at the same time.

It’s not _easy_ \--no, certainly not easy. But she thinks she’s beginning to accept that. If she went with the Doctor now… she’s not certain she’d be able to go back.

“They won’t even have to know you’re gone,” he whispers. “Anytime you want to come back, you only have to say the words.”

“No,” she says. “They might not know I’m gone, but I will. I’m sorry. I won’t travel along with you just because you think you need some sort of moral benchmark. You don’t need me for that.”

He pulls back. There’s a quick flash of hurt on his face, but then he turns back to the console. He twists and turns dials too quickly for her to follow.

“Back to your shuttle, then?” he says. “We’ll say… about five minutes before the building’s set to explode. Should get you back to your ship without anyone noticing anything amiss.”

Inara clenches her hands in front of her and releases a breath. “Thank you.” She bites her lip and then says, “What will you do?”

He looks up from the console and considers her. “Oh, same thing I’ve always done. Last of the Time Lords. Perpetual traveler, that’s me.”

“Doctor,” she says. She softens her tone, “You don’t have to pretend around me, you know.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Worried about me?”

“Yes,” she says simply.

He nods and braces his weight on the console. “Take things one at a time, I suppose. First stop after I pick Martha up will be that rift in Cardiff. TARDIS could use the energy. And then… I don’t know, blimey…” he pinches the bridge on his nose and thinks. “Keep going. And hope—hope’s a good one—always got to have a little hope.”

“Very true,” Inara says softly.

He shakes his head and moves back to the console. “Hold on.”

“What do you—”

He yanks up on a lever and the ship jerks in response. Inara’s thrown off her feet, wincing in pain when she hits the floor.

The ship stops a moment later and the Doctor holds out a hand to help her to her feet.

“I told you to hold on.”

She releases a sharp breath and narrows her eyes. “You know, you’re not always very helpful.”

He shrugs. “Inara Serra, I must say. It’s been a pleasure working with you this evening.”

He moves to shake her hand and then changes his mind, choosing to pull her in for a hug instead. She’s surprised, but then relaxes, hugging him back.

“Take care of yourself, Doctor,” she says. She wants to add something else, maybe something more profound, but it’s been too long since she was a Companion and she doesn’t have the words.

He releases her and forces a smile. “Your shuttle is right outside those doors. Well, if I got my coordinates right. And that doesn’t always—I’m sure it’ll be fine. Go on.”

She takes a few tentative steps forward. She holds her breath as she opens the doors. And then releases a deep sigh when she’s greeted by the blinking lights from her shuttle’s console. She turns around to say “goodbye,” but the Doctor’s back is to her. He’s already fiddling with the controls, mumbling to himself.

She nods in understanding. She looks around the wide expanse of the TARDIS one more time and then steps into her shuttle, closing the doors behind her.


End file.
